Amor Mundum Fecit
by WOWZAcoolBEANS
Summary: After their brother's death, the Nightray siblings go to a brothel for some fun, but when Elliot falls for Leo, the boy forced to cross dress as a prostitute, their lives all change forever. Elliot/Leo.
1. Into Eternity Brother Hail & Farewell

**Title: **Amor Mundum Fecit

**Description:** After their brother's death, the Nightray siblings go to a brothel for some fun, but when Elliot falls for Leo, the boy forced to cross dress as a prostitute, their lives all change forever. Elliot/Leo.

**Rating:** T for adult situations.

**Chapter Title:** And Into Eternity, Brother, Hail And Farewell

**Chapter Description:** One cries that the hands of his oppressors while another cries at the funeral of his brother. By chance they meet.

**A/N: **First I will say, Chapter 59 is causing me to post this. I'm nowhere near done with the rest of it, but I just wanted to… give them a happy ending. ;_; That's all I wanted. Anyhow~, I hope you enjoy this. It's been a long time in the making. Please leave a review if you liked it (or disliked it) and enjoy your day.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own _Pandora Hearts_, its characters or anything affiliated with it. I also do not own any of the quotes that I've used in this story, whether they be within it or the chapter starters.

…

"_Et in perpetuum, frater, ave et vale_."

-Catullus

…

"Get me out of here." The whip comes down hard upon his back as his torturer chuckles with sadistic glee. "God… Let me leave this place," he whispers.

…

The gravestone was so big, so tall, just like his brother had been. Fred was strong, the eldest of them all. Thinking of him growing cold under his feet made Elliot feel sick. He was the last one to linger after the funeral; the guests were gone and the priest had long since left, shaking his head as he watched the youngest Nightray child stand in front of that cold stone. His father had left right after the ceremony was over, and his brothers had to escort their sobbing mother to the lunch being held in Fred's honor. He was the only one who remained.

His hand shaking, he reached out to touch the stone. It really was cold. "Fredrick Nightray," he read from the imprinted letters as his hand traced over them. "Born XXXX, died XXXX. A son, a brother, a friend." The words seemed impersonal and so sad. There was more to Fred than these names. He was a human, a great person, who had loved and cried and thought and…

"Elly?" Elliot pulled his hand away from the tombstone as if he were caught doing something bad, something wrong. "Elly, the party is over. We should go."

"Ernest, go home without me." He turns to his brother and tries to force a smile. Tears well up in his eyes and threatened to escape. "I'll get a coach on my own and-"

"Elly, we're going to all go out tonight. We can't go home either." Ernest walks to his younger brother and puts on hand on his shoulder, the other on his head. "Let's go out and have some fun tonight. Fred would have wanted that. Fred wouldn't have wanted to make you cry."

And it was true. The tears spilled from Elliot's eyes, though he didn't want them to. Fred would have never wanted to be mourned so much. Fred would have wanted to see his family smile and laugh rather than frown and cry. Still, Fred was no longer there, and Elliot could not handle that fact without tears.

"Come on, Elly. Let's go have some fun." Ernest brought his hand down to grab his brother's and together, the two of them left.

…

"All the rich guys will go after you, and they won't be pleased when they find out~. That's why you have to knock them out before that! In the corner of your room there will be a bottle of chloroform in the corner with an old rag. Use that to make them pass out. Take their money and when they wake-up be pretending to put your clothes back on. Tell them to visit you again and then make them be on their way. Bring the money to me and I'll get you set up with another guy~." Isla smiles. "Now I know that tonight is your first name out there with the big girls, but don't be shy! You're fantastic at what you do~."

He hated his life.

…

Claude and Ernest were more than a little drunk. That was the best that could be said about their behavior. Elliot, of course, was disturbed by his brother's murder, sad to see that he was no longer there, and terrified of how his family would be like now that he was gone, but he at least maintained dignity whilst in public. His brothers, on the other hand, decided that their sorrows were best drowned in alcohol.

"That there is my little brother!" Claude says with a laugh as he points Elliot out to two women of questionable morals who had come up to his brothers a few minutes earlier, probably expecting free drinks from the drunk rich men. "He's such a cute little kid. All the girlies want him but he never lets any of them have a slice!" The four of them laugh as Elliot rolls his eyes. In some ways it really was like old times; nothing seemed different except for his brothers' inebriation. Still, his love life was not something that he wanted broadcasted, even if it was to two prostitutes who didn't really care. "If I were him… I would have so much…" They never found out what he would have so much of, because he began to giggle uncontrollably.

Ernest, however, began to have an ideas. "Ladies," he asks them with a sly grin, grabbing one of them around the shoulders and the other around the waist with a skilled hand. "Where exactly do you work?"

The two ladies look at each other and one, the leader of the two, Elliot guessed, nodded. "A place called the House of Fianna. It's a classy joint," she tells them.

"All of us are tested, we are!" The other one adds, almost too excitedly. "Nobody comes out any worse than they came in!" Elliot has to swallow down all of the comments he wishes to make about the morality of these young women. Now's not the time nor the place. Most of the other patrons of the bar had their eyes on him and his brothers and he didn't wish to call any more attention to the three of them. "Why?" She asks with a sly grin, sliding closer into Ernest. "Do you wanna come pay us a visit, maybe?" With a long finger she traced circles on her brother's chest, obviously irritating the other girl, who wanted the attention of Ernest rather than the less attractive Claude.

Elliot wondered briefly if he could find a way to slip away unnoticed.

Ernest takes a drunken look at his little brother. "If we were, how you say, to come visit that establishment that these ladies work at, would you be interested, Elliot?"

Elliot never got to answer that question with the negative response that he had been planning. Instead, the two girls began to squeal and drag his older brothers out the door, almost before they could pay. The five of them walked down the streets, the two older men singing drunkenly as the two girls smiled and Elliot trailing behind all the rest of them. Sooner than Elliot would have liked, they made it to the House of Fianna.

From the outside it looked like any other apartment building on the street. The outside was made of brown bricks with an ornate black door. All of the windows were covered with heavy blinds, almost so heavy that you couldn't see light coming from some of them. Only one window was uncovered, but it appeared that no one was in the room that it looked into. Over the door was a black sign with golden letters on it, spelling out 'Fianna' in an old-fashioned script. It looked like it could have been regular apartments or a printing business; no one would have expected the debauchery inside.

Reluctantly Elliot followed his brothers and the two girls inside the place. The first thing Elliot noticed was that it was clean. Cleaner than he would have expected. They were lead through a foyer that sparkled and into a room with a large wooden bar –not too different from the one that they had left a few minutes ago- where scantily clad girls in corsets and short skirts sat with their legs on the laps of drinking men. "Perfect!" Claude said happily. "Now just to find someone to get little Elly's mind off of his troubles…"

Elliot could have killed him.

"Hello there," a woman in a slightly longer dress said to them from behind the bar, waving to them with –what she thought was- a seductive grin. "Can I get you boys a drink? Or would you like something a bit more special?"

Ernest led the way over to this woman, whom Elliot assumed was in charge here. "Yes, I think we'd like something special," Ernest told her, leaning over the bar with a charming smile. "You see, we'd like to get someone for our little brother, here-"

"How old is he, if I may ask?" They all turned around at once to see an older man with terrifying red eyes smiling at him. "Not that I wouldn't admit him with one of our girls, of course, but wouldn't he be more comfortable with a girl his age?"

"Sixteen," Claude told the man with a yawn, uninterested in unattractive men. "Who're you?"

The man grinned and reached a hand toward Claude, then to Ernest and Elliot in turn. "Isla Yura, is my name. I run this fine establishment. And you are…?"

Ernest grinned. "I'm Ernest, this is Claude," he gesticulated to Claude. "And this little one is Elly." He put a hand on Elliot's head, making Elliot feel much younger than he was, despite standing in a whorehouse for the first time in his life.

"Last name?" Isla asked with a tilt of the head.

"Johnson," Ernest told him with a wink. Elliot sighed in relief; at least their father wouldn't find out what they were doing if they weren't Nightrays when they were here.

Isla's face fell momentarily as he looked over the three brothers. "Hmm," he whispered under his breath before shaking his head. "Such attractive young men. Any of my girls would be delighted to have you-"

"Sorry Isla," Ernest said laughing. "Claude and I won't be partaking tonight. Just little Elly."

"Ah, then," Isla said, a smile returning to his face. "I'll prepare Leona for you, Mr. Elliot. She's a good girl, same age as you. I'm sure the two of you will get on smashingly. If you'd excuse me for just a moment, I'll make sure that she's ready. You boys make yourself comfortable while I'm away."

Ernest and Claude turned around to the bar and ordered drinks from the bartender. Elliot was far too nervous to even think about consuming alcohol. The truth was, he didn't want to do this, so he wouldn't. He'd just pay off the girl to tell people that they had… had relations and then just ask her for a book to read, or something. It wouldn't be that difficult. Still, his heart beat quickly in his chest and-

"So you got Leona?" The bartender looked worried. Elliot nodded. "She's… Well, don't be too hard on her, if you would, sir. She's not quite used to the way that things work around here yet."

Confused, Elliot nods, but says nothing. What feels like moments later, Isla returns and beckons Elliot over to him. "Now, Leona is a good girl and she'll do whatever you want her to," he tells Elliot as the two of them walk up the stairs. "Any sort of fantasies you have, Leona can perform them. Any of the girls here can. I'm so proud of them all! Still, Leona is special. You'll see when you meet her, Mister…" He pauses and turns to Elliot with a smile. "I do apologize, I seem to have forgotten your name."

Though he's not thrilling to give it to this man, he does so anyway. "Elliot," he tells him. "Elliot Ni…" He remembers Ernest's joke and decides to go along with it. There was no reason to tarnish the Nightray name within such an establishment. "Elliot Johnson."

"Very well, Mr. Johnson," Isla tells him turning down a hallway and stopping at a door. "This is Leona's room. Go on in. There's no rush; you have all night." Isla opened the door and shoved Elliot inside, shutting it tightly and locking it as soon as Elliot was in there.

"Damn it," Elliot whispers under his breath as he stares at he door. Sighing, he turns around to survey the room and… the girl. The room itself was nice; not as extravagant as anything at his home but it was clean looking. In the middle of it there was a large bed with white sheets and a red comforter on it. Around the room was various artwork that wouldn't have seemed out of place in any normal person's home. There were also three large wooden cabinets in the room, which Elliot could only imagine what they contained.

At the far side of the room, next to a window covered with thick curtains was a wooden desk and a girl tinkering with something on it. "Relax," she said as soon as Elliot looked at her. "There's no reason to be so tense."

"Sorry, I've never done something like this before," Elliot admitted, taking a hesitant seat on the bed, after seeing that the only chair in the room was next to the desk that Leona was standing in front of.

Leona laughed softly; she had a voice that was a bit deeper than most women's, but it was it pleasing and soft. It sounded like music when she spoke. "No need to be nervous." She seemed to be tinkering with something on the desk as she spoke. "Nothing bad will happen, I assure you." She turned around.

She wasn't beautiful. At least, not in the traditional sense of the word. Most of her face was covered by large, round glasses and what wasn't covered by those was covered by a mess of tangled brown hair. Unlike the girls downstairs she wore a full-size dress like ladies of society wore –though to be sure, her dress was _not_ as fine as the ladies of society whom Elliot was used to seeing. But her skin was pale and creamy and her mouth and nose were both pleasant enough. No, she was not attractive in the traditional sense, but she, for some reason, pleased Elliot's eyes.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind… Of course I would _pay _you…" The words seemed muddled; despite her words, he was more nervous than he thought possible. "But um… if we didn't _do_ anything."

Leona's face fell slightly. "What do you mean by that, customer?"

"Elliot. You can call me Elliot."

She smiled slightly and sat down daintily on the other side of the bed, her back facing towards him. Elliot knew that he was in control of this situation; he knew that he was the one with the money and the power to leave, if he really needed to. Yet, for some reason, he felt so out of control right now. Momentarily, there is silence. "What do you mean by that, then, Elliot?" She shuffled something in her hands; Elliot could hear it. Still, his face was so red that he would never turn to look at her, because she may see it.

Not that he cared about the opinion of a mere prostitute, of course.

"I mean, my brothers… They think that this is the only way for me to get over…" he pauses, unsure how to go on. Should he tell her, this stranger, about Fred's death? About how there's now a hole in his chest that feels like it will never be filled? "But it's not up to me that I'm here. So would you just like to… talk? Of course, I'll pay you for tonight, however much you want, but I just don't want to… I really can't…" Elliot was sure that he sounded like a moron and that Leona would kick him out for some better client who actually wanted her to do her job. Still, he thought, it was worth a shot.

"You're really young, aren't you, Elliot?" He liked the way that she said his name. It sounded like something sacred coming from her lips. "You seem really inexperienced." His face grew redder and he clenched his hands into fists. "Not just at this but at…" she pauses and though he cannot see her, she squeezes the cloth in her hands tightly. "You gave me your name. Most people don't do that. That's not very smart; I know who you are now. I could follow you, blackmail you, try to make you marry me or give me all your money or threaten to tell your family about this." Her voice gets more quiet, now. "At least, that's what most men who come here think. You, however, probably never had that idea cross your mind. Is that true? Am I correct in thinking that?"

She's making fun of him, he's sure. "Yes, I'll admit that."

"How old are you?" she asks, almost like she's laughing at him.

Something about the way she's talking makes Elliot want to answer. Maybe it's because he pities her; because she sounds sad, desperate. Or maybe it's something more abstract than that. He's not sure. "Sixteen," he tells her.

"So am I." Despite the red on his cheeks, he turns around, shocked. Her back is facing him and her head is tilted down, looking at her lap.

"Really?" Prostitution wasn't supposed to happen that young, Elliot had always thought. Wasn't it supposed to be the last resort of old maids who could no longer rely on deadbeat dads and miserable mothers. "But you're so young!"

"So you're very naïve. That's okay. It's probably better that you are." Elliot doesn't know what to say. He's still shocked over the revelation that they were the same age. "I'm okay with not doing anything. It'll be nice to have a good nights sleep, for once. Besides," She turned to him, smiling. "You're really cute."

If there was any blood in Elliot's body that wasn't in his cheeks, Elliot would have been surprised. Leona chuckled as Elliot turned away. "Omnium rerum principia parva sunt," he whispered under his breath, not even sure why, finding something calm in the words that were spoken so long ago by someone so wise.

"Cicero," Leona said, happily surprised. "The beginnings of all things are small."

Again, Elliot turned around in surprise. "How did you know-"

"I read," she tells him, now laughing. "There's not much else to do." She turned around so that she was sitting cross-legged on the bed. It wasn't very ladylike, in Elliot's opinion, but he didn't really mind it. Instead he was… intrigued.

"Do you read it in Latin?" He may have seemed a bit too enthusiastic, but none of his brothers or friends found the same great joy in books that he did. To find someone else who, not only recognized the quote, but knew who it was, was exhilarating.

Leona shrugs. "When I can find it in Latin. I'm a slave to whatever Sir Isla brings home with him or the maid gets her brother to steal from the rich people he works for. So yes, when I can. But not always. But my Latin isn't great, either. Being self-taught is difficult. I can get some of the words, but my real knowledge is restricted to the more famous quotes and writers." She pauses. "I particularly like Catullus." Elliot is speechless; this girl is… "Da mi basia mille, deinde centum, deinde mille altera, deinde centum," she recited from memory. "Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amemus."

"But after Lesbia leaves him his poems are so depressing. All about debt and how he hates his neighbors." Elliot shakes his head. "Once she's gone, there's nothing left for him. It's sad. And when his brother died…" Images of Fred flashed through his mind, and he hated himself. Hated himself for being happy, for not thinking of his brother, for losing sight of what had happened.

Slowly he turned around again; he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. What would Fred have said if he had seen him now? Would he have been disappointed and sad? Or maybe he would have gone along with Claude and Ernest and thought the situation was hilarious. Elliot would never know; Fred was gone.

"Elliot," again she says his name as if it were special, drawing it out as if it were the most important word she knew. "Are you alright?" There is a warm hand on his shoulder as a tear falls from his eye. He lies, telling her that there is nothing wrong. Both of them know, however, that it isn't true. "Elliot, why are you here tonight?" she asks softly, placing her other hand on his other shoulder.

"My brothers got drunk tonight. They thought I would feel better if they took me here."

Leona rubs his shoulders gently with her hands. Elliot was sure that he was not the first man that she had done that to, but it felt wonderful, nonetheless. "Feel better from what, Elliot?"

If she had not said his name he would have lied. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to. "My brother," he told her shutting his eyes. "His funeral was this morning."

She stopped rubbing, but kept her hands on him. Supporting him, keeping him steady. "I'm sure," she said after a pause. "I'm sure that you've heard from many people how sorry they are, and how good a man he was, but I never knew him. Still, if his death was enough to make you feel this much for him, then he must have been a good man. No one can tell you anything that will make you feel better about his loss. However," she moved her left hand down from his shoulder and put it over his heart. "If you keep him here, he'll always be with you, watching over you, keeping you company when you're alone. You can never truly say goodbye to someone you love. They travel with you forever and feel horrible when they see you cry. So for your brother's sake, stop crying, Elliot. He wouldn't want to see you cry."

He cried anyway. All of the tears that he had held back because he was supposed to have been a 'man' and remain calm, all of the sobs that he had kept in his chest because he didn't want to worry his mother, all of the emotions that he had hidden because there was no time, no energy, no need to release them escaped and he cried and sobbed. And Leona was there. She held him and patted his hair and when he fell asleep from the exhaustion of the day, she was the one who put a blanket over him and watched to make sure that he was alright until she, herself, fell asleep at his side.

Because, for the first time in Leo 'Leona' Red's life, a man had shown him kindness. And he would be forever grateful to Elliot and would forever want to be at his side.

…

_End of Chapter One_


	2. Crueler To Be Always Afraid Of Dying

**Chapter Title:** It Is Crueler To Be Always Afraid Of Dying Than To Die

**Chapter Description: **Elliot returns to the Nightray home, full of thoughts of the girl that he met the night before. He and his driver Oz go to visit Oz's sister, but her place of work may just be a place that Elliot has been before…

**A/N:** Here we are, chapter two! If you haven't noticed, the Latin quote that I use for each chapter is translated into English as the chapter title, just so you know… Anyhow, far too late, chapter two. Enjoy. I rushed through this—I finally got the time to finish it after months of wanting to—so if there are any mistakes, please tell me.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the quotes that I've used.

** … **

"_Crudelius est quam mori semper timere mortem._"

–Seneca

** … **

"The lady seemed really vexed at you all for disappearing last night. I'm surprised that you aren't being yelled at by your father right now, Elliot." Oz Vessalius, the Nightray family's carriage driver, said when Elliot came down for a visit. "If I were your dad and you made your mother worry like that, I'd have locked you in your room all day and make you go without supper. If I were… Elliot, where are you going?"

The truth was, Elliot was tired. His brothers barging into the room that he had been… sleeping in the night before at the crack of dawn was not the greatest way to start the day. They had rushed home to find a sobbing mother and an angry father and had been kept awake even longer by the yelling and sobbing and blaming and hate. "Not in the mood, shorty. Never mind." Still, throughout that entire ordeal there was one thought that had been always on his mind…

"Elliot! Don't go!" Elliot felt an annoying hand grabbing his arm. "I was just kidding! Please don't leave me!"

"You sound pathetic," Elliot tells Oz with a sigh as he swats the kid's arm off of him. "You're like something out of a bad, girly novel." He wonders if she reads those kinds of novels; she did say that she was a slave to whatever her employer brought in. Oz went into his pouting mode with big, quivering eyes. Elliot could only sigh. "You just look mentally unstable, now."

"Elliot, you're so mean!" Oz told him, even though he was smiling with the realization that Elliot wasn't actually going to leave him. "Do you come here just to make me feel sad?"

The two of them were in the stable near his father's favorite horse. Elliot knew that whenever he needed a friend—or at least someone other than his family to talk to—Oz would be there. Of course, he would be smiling stupidly and smelling slightly of horse dung, but there nonetheless. "No, I came here to make you feel like a shining star. Am I not doing my job correctly?"

Oz's eyes narrowed. "Someday, mister, you're going to fall madly in love with someone. And you're going to be ridiculously mean to that person like you are to me, even though you really like them, but they're not going to understand and will hate you. Forever." He paused. "And ever."

All at once, Elliot's face fell. Something felt wrong; his stomach churned with butterflies that he hadn't known existed until the night before. He didn't know why he felt that way, but he did. And he didn't like it; not one bit. "Really?" he asked. "Am I really that bad?" A self-consciousness not usually found in his tone crept into his voice; a self-consciousness that Oz could not help but to exploit.

"Why~? Do you have some sort of a lady friend who-" All at once Oz's face lit-up; Elliot regretted letting anything escape his mouth in the first place; he should have just kept quiet. "Elliot! Why didn't tell me that you have a girl? I'm so proud of you; I thought that it would never happen!"

Elliot didn't love anyone. He had no idea what was Oz was talking about. "Shut up, moron, I don't have anything like that." Elliot refused to acknowledge the fact that his cheeks were getting red or how he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with his friend. "Is it wrong to ask if… about…" He shook his head. "You are a moron," he told Oz, his eyes narrowed. "And I should probably fire you."

Oz bounced over to him, and put his hands on Elliot's shoulders, completely ignoring the fact that his job and livelihood had just been threatened. "I want to know all of the details, Elliot. Don't leave a single thing out; I need to know everything!" Oz chuckled, ecstatic for his friend, while Elliot himself felt like melting into a giant puddle. "Where did you meet her? When? What's she like? Is she pretty? Is she-"

"I'm leaving," Elliot says, not quite so good humored this time, his irritation growing to the point where he didn't even think that coming to Oz was even worth it. For the eighty percent of the time he was fond of his carriage driver, there was twenty percent where he wanted to strangle the little blonde ball of energy. Tears grew in his eyes; this had been a stressful few days. There was no reason to stay if Oz was just going to—

The little blonde idiot grabbed his arm again. Tight.

"Elliot, are you…" Oz shook his head. "Of course you're not." He paused, still not letting go of Elliot, despite the fact that Elliot looked about ready to start sobbing. "Do you want to go visit Ada, Elliot? Sunday isn't a big day for her to work at her new job, so I'm sure she wouldn't mind seeing you. It's been a long time and I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

Wordlessly, Oz takes Elliot's hand and drags him to the carriage that he drives for the Nightrays, gently forces him into it and sets off to visit Oz's sister Ada, the maid at a house of less-than-respectable practices.

** … **

"WHY ARE WE HERE?" Startled, Oz nearly stopped his carriage in the middle of the early morning traffic. "HOW THE HELL DID YOU-"

"What are you talking about Elliot?" He sped the carriage up, nearly hitting a rider on horseback in the process. He waved at the man with a guilty grin. "Have you… been here before?" The place, in question, was the House of Fianna. Not as nice as Ada's last job working in a society woman's kitchen, but it paid more and gave her a room. Sure, Oz was worried that someday the pimp who ran the house would try to recruit his young and naive sister, but he was sure that until that time, she'd be fine there. And when that time came, well, Oz would barge in and save her like the hero he was.

The back of the coach was silent. Too silent. In fact, Oz knew that there must have been something _very_ wrong for Elliot Nightray to be that silent.

Oz's mouth twitched momentarily and then spread into a huge smile. "Elliot~, what have you been doing in your spare time? I never knew that you were so wild and reckless! You really have been keeping me out of-"

The door to the carriage slammed open, causing the horseman to the side of them to swear profusely at the son of a duke who was attempting to jump out of it whilst the carriage was still moving. "Elliot," Oz yelled from the driver's seat, not even sounding worried. "Get back inside! You'll get hurt if you go out and I'm not really in the mood to lose my job." Though Oz couldn't take his eyes off of the road to see what happened, he could hear the door close and Elliot sigh heavily.

"You are really good at pissing me off; you know that, shorty?"

"Why are you so freaked out, Elliot? It's not like you have been here before, right?" In all seriousness, Oz knew that Elliot wasn't really the type to spend his time in a brothel. Maybe the reaction was just because of the place itself. Still... "Because you don't usually have these sorts of-"

"I've been here before." Oz's jaw dropped and lost control of his reins for a moment. Again, the horseman had a reason to swear. "I won't say anything else but the fact that I've been here before."

Getting out of the traffic, Oz parked the carriage on the side of the street. During the daytime the brothel looked the same as any other house on the street; there was nothing that would make one think that within those walls terrible, unholy things were happening. Maybe at that very moment. Still, Elliot's heart beat loudly in his chest. He knew what was there; he knew who was there. And that fact terrified him.

"This place has been really good to Ada," Oz tells Elliot as they nonchalantly walked into the brothel, Elliot trying to cover his face, hoping that no one would notice him. "They've given her good pay and a place to stay. She's a lot happier here than she was at her old job. She also says that most of the girls are nice to her, which is a welcome change from working at the houses of rich people. The girls at least treat her like an equal, not like she's scum." Oz frowned; he didn't care about his rank in life at all, but when someone mentioned his sister… It was a different story.

"Isn't that because all of them are downtrodden here?" Oz opened the door up for Elliot. They might be friends, but Oz was still Elliot's servant.

The lobby seemed to be just as clean as it had the night before, just as nice, even though Elliot was sure—from the noises he heard from the walls and floor—that dirty things had happened there. The only difference was that it was almost empty, besides the same woman who was behind the bar the night before. "We're closed right now," she told them as she inspected a glass, cloth in hand in case it wasn't clean. "Come back later if you want to-"

"Gooooood morning Lotti!" The woman looked up from her work, paused for a moment, and then smiled.

"She's up in her room, Oz. Make sure not to surprise her." Lotti returned to her glass as Oz grabbed Elliot's hand and dragged him up the stairs that he had gone up just one night before.

They walked down the same hallway, the same steps, the same floor, and Elliot's heart beat fast. No one seemed to be up or around; his guess was that they were sleeping off the previous night's… adventures. If his profession were as nocturnal as the people who worked in the House, his guess was that he would do the same thing. Still, as he walked in front of a certain door, part of him hoped that someone would come out of it. "A pipe dream," he whispered to himself, thankfully not being heard by Oz's selective ears.

"Oz?" a timid voice asked from the end of the hall. A head peeked out from behind a door. "Is that you?"

"Yes sister! Elliot and I have come for a visit!" Ada's face brightened and the siblings ran to each other, combining to become a one huge mess of blonde hair. "It's because I missed you soooooo much! I can't stand being apart!" They giggled and twirled each other around; Elliot was almost jealous. With a pang he thought of Fred. The two of them were never that close, but could they have been? If Fred miraculously came back to life, Elliot would have acted like that with him. He really would have.

Grinning, Ada lead the two of them to her room. "Tea?" she asked as they sat down at a small wood table. Oz nodded with vigor. "You two came at a good time." She walked over to a small stove in the corner of the room where a teapot was brewing. "I was just getting this ready. I think that there will be enough for three people..."

"Ada~," Oz said with the mischievous smile that Elliot hated. "Did you know that Elliot has been here before?"

Ada nearly dropped the teacup that she was about to pour tea into and stared at Elliot with wide eyes. "What?" Elliot's mouth twitched; if Ada hadn't been there, he would have strangled Oz.

"Yep, he won't tell me any of the details, but he got this really big look in his eyes when we came here and tried to jump out of the carriage. Maybe he did something horrible here that he never ever wants to talk about again! Isn't that funny? I think-"

"I didn't do anything horrible!" Elliot slams his hands down on the table that Ada had lead him to, shaking the contents on it. "I didn't do anything at all! My brothers forced me to come here last night thinking it would make me feel better but..." He frowned, sat back down, and put his head in his hands. "Nothing at all happened."

"Then you were the one who Leona was with, right?" Ada asked, smiling as she brought two cups of tea over to the table. "She said that she was with someone very nice last night. I thought that I saw Claude this morning, passed out at the bar, but you weren't-"

"Is Leona okay?" The words were out his mouth before he knew what he was saying. "I mean, I didn't do anything. That wouldn't mean that she's in—"

There was a scream. Elliot and Oz both jumped out of their seats, though Ada remained calm. She winced, but made no motions to move. "What's going on?" Oz asked, looking around like he could find who was in pain just within those walls. "Who's screaming?"

Ada shook her head. "The manager here… Isla Yura? He's a cruel man. Not to me, of course, I'm too lowly to be noticed, but there are a few girls here who he seems to hate for no reason." She paused and winced as there was another scream and the clunk of something heavy falling over above them. When the screaming was done she opened her eyes again, speaking more quietly than before. "Leona is one of those girls. He hates her; he really hates her. He does this to her… All the time. I wish that I could—"

Elliot was out of his chair. "Where is she?" he asked, staring at Ada with eyes that made her shiver.

She didn't try to talk Elliot out of it. She didn't try to get Elliot to calm down and think logically. "She's upstairs, in his office." She paused, thinking that maybe, just maybe, this nobleman's son could be the one to save Leona, like no one else was able to. "Hurry."

He was off running in mere moments. It was chivalry, he told himself as he ran up the stairs towards the screaming that he had begun to hear again. Only chivalry and nothing else. It was the sort of thing that was in a novel; a hero saving a woman from torture. What Elliot conveniently forgot as he reached the door, pausing with a momentary lapse in courage before it, was that the hero usually feel in love with the damsel.

He opened the door.

At first, it seemed that Isla Yura didn't notice him. But Elliot noticed everything about _him_. About the whip he held in his hand. About the sick smile on his face as he stared at Leona's bleeding back. About the tears rolling down Leona's face. "You have a job," Isla told her, the grin increasing as she shuddered, too hurt to even scream. "And that is to get money from our customers. What you did last night was unacceptable, Leona. That one of your clients should leave with his wallet is…" He saw Elliot. "Oh dear, Mr. Johnson. You've caught the two of us at a bad time. If you could—"

Elliot stared into Isla Yura's eyes. "My name is not Johnson," he said, livid. "My name is Elliot Nightray, an heir of the Nightray dukedom. And in the name of my family, I demand that you put down that whip and let her go." His hand rested on the family sword that he carried with him always on his belt. Yura's eyes traveled down to that sword and saw what the crazy child was willing to do with it.

But instead of walking away, he set down his whip and grinned.

"Nightray, you say?" he asked, his smile growing wider. "Well, Sir Nightray, if you would like my daughter, then it would be my pleasure to have you take care of her…"

** … **

"Ada! Oz!" Leona was heavier than he had imagined. "ADA! OZ! WHERE THE HELL ARE—"

He heard Oz's voice. "We're here!" Both of them met him at the top of the stairs waiting for him.

Ada's eyes grew wide. "Is she alright?" she asked, glancing at Leona's eyes, which fluttered open and closed under her pair of now-cracked glasses.

"Ada, I need bandages. And fast. And water. And disinfectant or something! Oz, help me carry her to her room."

Without speaking the three of them went to work. Ada ran to find Lotti, who was not only the bartender, but also a sort of caretaker for the girls of the house. Oz and Elliot carried Leona to the room that she and Elliot had shared the night before. After a moment of difficulty with the door, they managed to get her inside and on to the bed.

Oz frowned. "She doesn't look too good," he said, thinking that she maybe wasn't going to make it.

"You wouldn't either if that disgusting creature had done the same thing to you." He stared at this girl, hoping that she would pull through. Praying that she would pull through. "I can't imagine what kind of a life she's had."

Oz looked at his friend. "How did you get her out of there?"

Elliot shook his head. "I don't even know. I told him… I told him my name and he said that I could do whatever I wanted with her." She looked so helpless on the bed, so sad and so scared. He wanted to help her in whatever way he could. "But he said she was his daughter. I don't understand. She's… Kind. He's a monster. I don't understand why she would stay."

"I'm going to go help Ada," Oz said, not asking if Elliot needed anything.

Elliot got down on his knees next to the bed. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Can you hear me?" Her eyes fluttered, but she said nothing. "We're going to help you," he said. "We'll find a way to help you." With a moment of courage, Elliot grabbed her hand. "I promise."

Her eyes fluttered open again, this time remaining open. "Thank you," she said, removing her hand and slowly lifting it to Elliot's cheek, letting it rest there. "Thank you." Her lips moved into the smallest of smiles as she dropped her hand and fell asleep once again.

…

"When do you think he'll find out?" Lotti asked Ada as she gathered some old dishrags from under the bar.

Ada shook her head. "I don't know." She paused. "Never?" she asked with her usual optimism.

Lotti shook her head with the jaded smile of someone who had been involved in this business for far too long. "It never works out like that," she said. "There will be a time where he'll find out that Leona isn't… Leona."

Oz walked down the stairs slowly, not realizing that he was eavesdropping until he heard what came next.

"I wonder what he'll say," Lotti continued. "When Leona becomes Leo again."

…

_End of Chapter Two_


	3. I Was Not Yet In Love, & I Loved To Love

**Chapter Title:** I Was Not Yet In Love, And I Loved To Love

**Chapter Description: **Elliot makes a shocking realization as Ada tries to find the man who she has fallen in love with. When Elliot returns home, a great tragedy awaits him.

**A/N:** About Lotti's characterization: I imagine her to treat Ada the way that she would treat Lily. Rather than being a part of the Baskerville's, she's part of the brothel, and would probably treat the people there with the sort of respect she'd use for her associates. At least, that's what I've thought. Also, I decided to make a tiny Ada/Vincent subplot. Because the unending angst was a bit much for me. Anyhow, thanks for the positive feedback on the last chapter, everyone! :D I must say, though, this chapter was sort of rushed… I didn't have a great time writing it. But it had to be done, so it was done. Here you are.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Pandora Hearts or any of the quotes that I've used.

…

"_Nondum amabam, et amare amabam._"

–Latin Proverb

…

Love is a strange thing. Ephemeral. As soon as one tries to understand it, they are lost. Some would think that they had lived, but most know that one does not know anything until they know what it feels like to hold someone above himself or herself. Whether that be a love of their family, love of a friend, or love in the romantic sense… It does not matter. Life begins when love does.

But romantic love is perhaps the greatest and most destructive of the three. To give ones heart completely to someone who has no obligation to take care of it is perhaps the bravest and most stupid thing a person can do. Love is so often unrequited. And when it is unrequited, the other party can do more destruction than they could ever perceive. Every word, every touch, every glance means so much more to one than to the other. It is torture of the acutest kind. That is, of course, when it is unknown.

And when does this love start? It can pop up anywhere. When a stable boy sees a rich girl pass by in a carriage, taking the reins from her driver because she can treat the horses better than he can. Or when a maid sees a handsome but tortured looking associate of her cruel boss, but who still casts her a smile when he walks her way. Or perhaps, after just one unforgettable night together, just talking, though under the strangest circumstances imaginable.

Love is a dangerous, beautiful tool that gets the better of the world's greatest people. Not a soul is immune from its dangerous touch and the disasters that befall those that succumb to it.

But what could be better than a comedy of errors where a man falls in love with a person with a secret? Nothing is better suited to a story. Beginning in a funeral and ending in a funeral, it will be a ride from start to finish.

…

Elliot never thought that he had watched someone sleep before. Being the youngest of his family, he had never had to watch sleeping siblings. Being from a rich family, he had never had to take care of someone else's children. Never before had he been able to pay attention to a chest as it gently rose up and fell down. Never before had he been able to concentrate on a person's breathing as their mouth opened and closed with just the tiniest of movements.

It was for these reasons, Elliot thought, that he enjoyed watching Leona sleep so much. He had been so exhausted and tired the first time they had slept—literally, not euphemistically—together that he had not paid attention to her. It was entrancing to watch another human sleep.

He tried not to think of how it was entrancing to watch _Leona_ sleep.

…

"I hear he goes out and drowns puppies for fun," one girl said as she tapped a cigarette into an ashtray. "Nuts, I say." She took a drag, filling the bar with smoke as she exhaled.

The two girls around her both chuckled. Another one—a bit chubbier than the first one, but much kinder, from Ada's experience—leaned onto the bar, engrossed in the gossip. "He runs a foreign crime ring," she said, playing with a strand of hair. "My source says he's got a bunch of criminals working for him around the world. He does this as a hobby; he's so loaded that it doesn't matter what he wants to do. He can get away with anything." Ada thought of the man who had come a few days ago—the one with the two differently colored eyes, and blushed.

The third of the girls sighed. "Don't you have anyone better to talk about than the boss?" she asked. "He could be back any moment and if what you're saying is true, then I don't really want to be on his bad side."

The first girl chuckled. "He was in such a good mood when he left that I'm sure that he wouldn't do anything, even if he heard us." She paused, setting her cigarette into the ashtray. "Heard he sold off poor Leona," she continued. "To a rich kid." The other two girls each raised an eyebrow. The first girl shrugged. "To each their own, I guess." She chuckled.

Ada couldn't stand to hear anymore. She stood up from where she had been scrubbing the floor and walked over to the bar where Lotti stood, as usual, taking stock of what drinks they needed more of for the coming night. "Lotti?" Ada asked.

Lotti resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Yes, she liked the girl, but she needed to leave her drama behind her. "Yes?"

The words were there in her mind, but Ada didn't know how to say them. She had been trying for days to work up the courage to ask, but she felt silly doing so. Still, if there was one thing she had realized from seeing Leona bleeding on the floor, clutching her broken dress to her chest so as not to reveal her true identity, it was that life was fleeting. "There was a man in here a few days ago."

"There are a lot of men who are in here every day, dear. I can't tell you—"

"I mean, during off hours. He had different colored eyes."

The expression on Lotti's face changed instantaneously from mild amusement and irritation, to horror. "Why would you ask that?" she said. Ada shrugged. Lotti shook her head. "Take it from me, Ada. You don't want to get involved with that guy. He's bad news." She paused. "Don't tell me that you already did something with Vincent. Have you?"

Ada had to stop herself from smiling. _Vincent_. She knew his name now. It was a lovely name; a name full of promise and nobility. "No," she said. "I was just curious. He had seemed rather… Nice when he was here, though. Don't you think?"

Lotti narrowed her eyes. "Don't let him fool you for a second. That man is a friend of the boss. And the boss doesn't keep good company." She didn't note aloud how the boss, himself, was bad company, but Ada understood what she meant. The implication hung in the air around them as the group of girls laughed nearby. Lotti sighed; little Ada seemed so dejected. "Do you want a drink?" she asked, not one to usually serve such a young girl.

Ada shook her head and smiled. "Thank you, but I should go check-up on Leona."

"Sure I can't tempt you?" Lotti asked. That girl may have been smiling, but she knew that there was more to the question than Ada had asked. Vincent wasn't one to mess around with little girls, and especially not little maids. A wealthy heiress? Perhaps. But Ada Vessalius? She would do nothing to get him ahead. But if the two of them hadn't met, there was no reason for Ada to look so sad. "I've got some of this great—"

Ada shook her head. "I really do appreciate the offer, Miss Lotti, but Elliot must be worried. And my brother hasn't come back yet from getting the ointment, so I should see if he needs any help." Ada gave a small, informal bow to the bar wench. "I'll be seeing you."

As Ada dashed off, Lotti sighed. "Kids these days," she said, returning to her bottles and ledgers. There was so much to do, and so little time to do it.

…

Occasionally Leona's eyes would flutter, or she would mutter something far too soft for Elliot to hear. Immediately he would ask her if she was all right, trying to see if there was anything he could do for her. So far, she had never responded and despite his noisiness, remained asleep.

Oz stood outside the cracked door, staring inside of it at his friend and the person on the bed. Ada had told him about Leona. About how Isla Yura had found the boy on a street when he was just a child and, on a whim, had decided to adopt him. She had told him about how Isla tortured the boy and forced him to dress up like a girl to con men away from their wallets. And she had told him that Elliot was supposed to have been one of those victims.

But how could he tell Elliot that? Elliot, whose brother had just died, and whose funeral he had attended just the day before. Elliot, who so rarely let his smile come through. Elliot, whom Oz had never seen look like that before. Whenever Leona did so much as move an inch, Elliot would rush from his chair onto his knees, checking to see if her condition had somehow worsened in the past two minutes.

There was no way that Oz could tell Elliot that this girl was a sham. It was unfair. All he could do was try to keep Elliot away for his own good. Elliot was proud, arrogant and brave, but also sheltered and naive in ways that he could not understand until he spent some time in the slums.

Oz and Ada had both lived in those slums. They needed to protect Elliot, just as they knew that Elliot would protect them given the chance.

Oz opened the door and stuck his head inside. "I'm back," he said with a huge grin. Elliot, who was on his knees at Leona's side, frowned and stood-up, brushing the dirt off of his pants. "Did you bring the medicine?" Oz asked, impersonating Elliot, whose mouth was open with those words nearly escaping. Elliot's lip twitched as Oz chuckled. "Yes I did. Don't worry about it, Elly." Oz walked through the door and over to Elliot, whom he gave a small brown bag. "It's in here."

Elliot hungrily grabbed the bag. Inside it was a small bottle filled with ointment to help cure wounds. He grinned as he moved the bottle around in his hands. He looked over to Leona, still unconscious on the bed, and sighed. "Can you ask Ada to come here?" Elliot avoided Oz's eyes. "I don't think that we can…" He blushed. "It would be indecent, of course…"

A perverted smile grew on Oz's face. "Elliot," he said. "You dog, you."

"I asked for Ada because—"

"Don't worry Elliot," Oz said, walking to the door. "I won't tell Ada about your—"

"GET BACK HERE YOU SHORT IDIOT—" Oz stuck out his tongue and escaped through the door. "OR I'LL—"

Leona shifted and groaned. Elliot ran down to her side, grabbing one of her hands in his. It was forward, but it was for medical purposes only. It was to see if she had any body heat, of course. "Is there anything wrong?" he asked her. She said nothing. "Can I help you somehow?" Silence. He dropped her hand and sighed. "There's medicine for you. Hopefully it will ease some of your pain," he said, not expecting results. He got none.

Feeling impatient, Elliot stood-up and began to pace around the room. It looked worse in the daylight. There were stains on the sheets and curtains. The meager furniture was old, chipped and dented. The open closet held only two gowns, seemingly Leona's only clothes since the dress that she had been wearing was now torn and ripped beyond repair. Behind those were a few sets of male clothes, which Elliot assumed were left behind by some of Leona's customers.

Elliot shivered at the thought of Leona's customers. How many had there been? Had she ever—

He shook his head, trying to expel those thoughts. They were indecent and improper. Besides, those days were over. Elliot would help her have a new life, a better life. He would giver her opportunities and help her get out of whatever messes she may have been caught in. He would—

There was a shy knock on the door. "Can I come in?" Ada asked, poking her head inside much like her brother had done.

"Of course," he said, walking towards her with a brisk sense of business. "I don't know if your brother told you, but if you would be so kind as to tend to her wounds, I would be much obliged." Ada shook her head yes. Elliot nodded back and handed her the small bottle. "Then I will leave for the moment and return when you are finished." He bowed to her and scurried out of the room. The door shut and Ada, turned to Leona, when it opened again. Elliot stuck his head in, refusing to make eye contact with Ada as he blushed. "If you need… Anything… Don't hesitate to come get me."

This time he left and seemed to be gone for sure. Ada sighed, turning to Leona. "I guess I'll get started then," she said, turning her attention away from the sleeping person to uncap the bottle.

"I can do that." Ada jumped, nearly dropping the bottle. Leona was sitting upright, reaching her hand out. "You don't need to do anything, Miss Ada."

"Oh Leona, you're alright?" She grinned. "Elliot was so worried about you. I should probably—"

"Please don't," Leona said, looking away. "Don't go get him."

Ada frowned, but asked no questions. Leona had been through so much that day that Ada wasn't about to make things any more complicated for her. She tried to smile again, but the thought of all of the things that had happened that day weighed on her. "Let me help you," she said. "That's the least that I can do."

Tired from the day, Leona consented.

…

After what felt like hours to Elliot, Ada came down and told him that Leona was fine. Elliot sighed with relief and stood up from the bar—where he had been sitting, making the most awkward of small talk with Lotti—to go see Leona once more before he left. Oz had been urging him the entire time he was at the bar to go back home, but Elliot insisted that he stay long enough to see Leona one last time.

Ada felt bad not telling Elliot that Leona had woken-up, but didn't wish to defy her wishes. Hoping that Leona was able to get back to 'sleep' again, she brought Elliot up to Leona's room.

Leona was sleeping peacefully on the bed, and Elliot was glad to see that all of the fitfulness that she had displayed earlier seemed to be gone. "See," Ada said, "She's fine."

Smiling, Elliot walked towards Leona, and leaned down at her side one more time. "I'm… glad that you aren't too badly hurt," he said, taking her hand once again. It was pale and rather larger than he had thought a lady's hand to be, but he found it to be lovely nonetheless. Lovely because it belonged to Leona. "I will… I will be back. And I will try to help you the best that I can, Leona." Not thinking, he leaned over and kissed Leona on the cheek. "I promise."

Elliot and Oz left to go back to the Nightray manor and Ada returned to her work. She returned an hour later to check on Leona who was actually asleep now, her hand on her cheek, as if she were trying to protect Elliot's kiss and keep it from flying away.

…

The carriage ride back was a silent one. Oz had to concentrate on not crashing in the traffic of the city, while Elliot sat in thought, trying to find some way to help Leona escape her situation. Thinking of some reason to get her away from her horrid guardian and out of that wretched house.

When the carriage stopped, it was sudden. Elliot looked out the window, ready to yell at Oz when he saw Vanessa running towards him. As quick as he could, Elliot jumped out of the carriage and ran towards his sister. "Vanessa?" he asked, noticing the tears she was trying to keep back, the sobs escaping from her chest and the paleness of her face. "Vanessa, what's wrong?"

She went limp in Elliot's arms, her head on his shoulder. "Dead," she managed to say through her tears.

Elliot couldn't understand what she was saying. "Dead?" he asked, holding her, looking back at Oz for some kind of support. "Are you talking about Fred?" He had thought that his sister's tears were over and that she was the most composed of the family. Apparently he had been wrong.

But Vanessa shook her head, dripping tears onto Elliot's jacket. "Trying… To find you…" She whimpered. "Because… Claude…"

Elliot went pale. "What about Claude?" he asked, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice.

Vanessa looked up at her brother, tears falling from her eyes. "He's… dead," she said, completely falling apart into sobs.

The earth had never shaken so much around Elliot before. Had it ever been stable? His legs felt like they were going to give out, so he sat down on the ground, in the dirt. Quite unbecoming for an heir to the Nightray dukedom, he thought to himself as the world shattered around him. But what else could be done?

Another one of his brothers dead.

…

_End of Chapter Three_


	4. The Date Is Set For Each And Everyone

**Chapter Title: **The Date Is Set For Each And Everyone

**Chapter Description: **A fight in the Nightray family causes tension. But it may just be the distraction Elliot needs to be able to go back to Leona's side.

**A/N:** This fic, I've found, is rather difficult to write. It's way more AU than anything else I've written for _Pandora Hearts_ and I've had a lot of problems with it. That's why it's been slow on updates. I have the entire story plotted and outlined, but the characterization takes me forever and, well… I have a life outside of fanfiction. But I really appreciate all of the positive feedback I've gotten on the past few chapters. It's really what keeps me writing. Anyhow, short chapter. Not much happens. Try to enjoy it anyway.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Pandora Hearts_ or any of the quotes that I've used.

…

"_Stat sua cuique dies._"

–Virgil

…

Three days since he had last seen Leona.

One day until his brother's funeral.

What was _happening_ to him? What was happening to his _life_?

This made no sense. The Nightray family was prominent and had some enemies, but to cut the heads off of the Nightray sons one by one was a bit extreme.

_Claude_.

Claude was more… real to Elliot than Frank had ever been. Frank had been so much older that he had rarely had time for his younger brother. Of course Fred's loss had sickened Elliot, but Claude's loss brought a pang of anxiety and sadness every time he thought about his brother.

Claude was gone. Claude would never again shake his head and reprimand Elliot when he took Vanessa's share of desert that night. Claude would never again stay up until four am reading a law book and Elliot would never again wake-up to the sound of his father yelling at his stupid son who was not supposed to want to be a lawyer. Claude would never again fall madly in love with a girl who didn't know his name and get Ernest to write her a poem that he would present to her. Claude would never again be laughed at by that girl and have to start all over again.

"Claude, Claude, Claude," Elliot whispered to himself as he lay on his bed. "This is all wrong."

He shut his eyes and thought of Leona. Elliot shoved his sadness and grief to the side and remembered Leona. A small smile formed on his face just thinking about her; he needed to see her again. If he were going to be able to get through this grief, he needed to be near Leona again.

He also needed to make sure she was okay. Though that rat Isla Yura had said that she would be treated well from now on, there was no way for Elliot to know if he had been telling the truth. And from what he had seen Isla doing to Leona, he was apt to think that Isla was a terrible, lying bastard and that he needed to find a way to get Leona out of there as soon as possible.

The only problem was that Elliot's father had strictly forbidden Elliot—or Ernest and especially Vanessa—from leaving the house alone until whoever had killed Fred and Claude was caught. This wouldn't have been an issue if his parents hadn't been monopolizing all of Oz's time by forcing him to cart them around to their various appointments and to go around and help make the funeral arrangements.

There was a knock at Elliot's door. "Yeah?" he asked, hugging his pillow, clearly miserable.

Vanessa stuck her head in the door. "Hey Elly," she said. Elliot grunted. "Can we talk?" He sat up and nodded, still clutching the pillow. Carefully, Vanessa closed the door as she walked into the room. "I was worried about you," she said, taking a seat at the edge of Elliot's bed. "I thought we could talk."

"What is there to talk about?" Elliot asked, feeling particularly like a teenage boy. "Fred and Claude are both dead and I'm in a hopeless situation. Nothing in the world is going right and I _can't do anything_ unless mother and father stop using the carriage. And I—"

"Elliot," Vanessa said, her eyes wide. "What are you talking about?"

Elliot stopped his rant, remembering that Vanessa had no idea that any of this had happened. He wanted to hit himself. "Vanessa," he began tentatively, "have you ever been in love with someone?"

Vanessa blinked twice. "Elliot, two of our brothers just died and you're worried about your _love life_?" She made it sound like it was Elliot who murdered his brothers. "Do you have any idea how _selfish_ that sounds? How childish you are? Are you kidding, Elliot?" She stood up. "You have to be kidding. You wouldn't disrespect your brothers like that."

Elliot dropped the pillow. "Being sad won't bring them back," he said, venomously. "Spending my time crying because they're gone won't make any difference. Being upset won't magically put their heads back on their necks. Don't you think they'd want us to be happy? Neither of them was selfish; they'd want me to try to focus on attaining my happiness, wouldn't they? Well, Vanessa?"

Vanessa stood speechless as Elliot seethed. "Who are you?" Vanessa asked, looking more and more like she was going to cry with every passing moment. "What happened to Elly?" She paused. "I don't know this girl that you're in love with or what sort of terrible situation she's in, but no matter who she is, family should come first." A tear slipped down her cheek. "Whoever she is, she shouldn't be so selfish as to make you forget the people who have cared about you and fought for you your entire life. Claude was always helping you along; you could at least care about him enough to give him a proper goodbye." She was crying in earnest by the end of the speech, but silently, and she made no attempt to wipe up the tears.

_God_, Elliot thought, _she's so strong_.

"Vanessa, I—"

"No," she said, turning around. "I don't want to hear it. I can't even look at you right now."

She left without saying a word, slamming the door behind her.

Elliot flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Vanessa had a point, but then again, Elliot knew that he did, as well. Both were stubborn as hell, but that was a Nightray trait passed from generation-to-generation even more prominent than the famous Nightray beauty mark. Of course Elliot was sad about his brothers, but there were other things he had to attend to, other responsibilities he had to own up to. If he left Leona alone just because he was upset over his brothers, at best he would hate himself, at worst she would die at the hands of Isla Yura.

After waiting long enough to know for sure that Vanessa would be out of the hallway—her room was on the other side of the house with his mother's—Elliot got up and began to walk to the stables, hoping that Oz would be there.

Of course, when Elliot got there he was told by another servant that Oz had just left for town and wasn't expected to be back until late that night at the earliest, but most likely early in the morning. When Elliot asked the servant what Oz's errand was, the servant said that he was under the strictest orders not to tell anyone.

Frustrated, Elliot kicked a pile of hay, knowing full well that it would be Oz who would have to clean it up when he got back from wherever he was.

Elliot went to the library and picked out a favorite book of Claude's. He didn't read it, but just sat in a comfortable chair by the fire and held it in his hands, wondering how many hours Claude had spent reading that same book in that same chair. The book was called _The Rights of Men_ and was far too philosophical for Elliot's tastes. But Claude had read that old, noble book so many times that many of the pages were ripped or stained with whatever Claude had been eating or drinking. The spine was cracked and certain parts of the books seemed to almost be falling out.

Elliot opened to a random page and traced his hand along the printed words. Claude's favorite words. Words that had made a difference in Claude's life and had helped him to discover a passion.

Elliot slammed the book shut and stood up. For a moment he shut his eyes and when he opened them, they burned. He abandoned the book on a nearby table and rushed to the room where his piano sat.

…

He titled the composition _Amor Mundum Fecit_ which translated loosely to 'Love Created The World'. He thought of it as being both a celebration of the lives of his deceased brothers, and also an ode to Leona, his love, and the person who would, in the absence of his brothers, be his future inspiration.

…

There was a knock as Elliot was just finishing the final few notes on the end of the first movement, named Fred, that Elliot wanted desperately to ignore. But he knew at the back of his mind that it may have been Vanessa, and he couldn't afford to screw things up with her worse than he already had. He loved his sister and wanted to try to make things better if he could.

"Come in," he said, shoving his papers all together.

It wasn't Vanessa, it was Ernest. "Hey Elly," he said walking slowly over to the piano. "Heard you had a fight with Nessy."

Elliot stifled a giggle; Vanessa hated that nickname with a passion. If she had been there she probably would have hit her brother until he promised not to call her that again. "Yeah," Elliot said, "it wasn't pretty."

Dramatically, Ernest swept across the room and embraced Elliot. "I know you're sad Elly, but you can't go around making problems." Elliot would have had a sarcastic response to give his brother if Ernest had allowed him to breathe. "Nessy wouldn't tell me what the fight was about, but she seemed _so_ upset about it. So upset that she's gone out for the night and won't be back until tomorrow. Going out with the little Duchess Reinsworth, it seems. Don't know why; it's not like the two of them get along particularly well. Maybe the Reinsworth brat feels bad for her or something." Elliot was wondering where Ernest was going with this. Ernest yawned. "But I still love you, Elly, so I want to do something. I'm bored and upset and bored and want to be with my little brother."

Elliot managed to dislodge his face out of Ernest's chest. Ernest giggled and Elliot realized that he had been drinking. "Do you want to go out?" Elliot asked, a bubble of hope forming in his chest.

Ernest grinned. "Now you're speaking my language."

…

When they got out of the carriage, Elliot's stomach nearly dropped to his feet. "What is this?" he asked his brother.

Ernest yawned and started to make his way towards the door. "A bar," he said.

"But this isn't the place we went the other night…"

"Didn't like that place," Ernest explained. "The bartender didn't think I was cute."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Elliot followed his brother into the bar. "Hello everyone!" Ernest shouted the moment they entered. The bar was full and loud, but a few people looked over at him. "My brother's funeral is tomorrow! A round on me!"

Some people stared at Ernest like he was insane while others cheered. Elliot was embarrassed for his brother, but his mind was on other things. He knew what he would have to do, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to do it. Still, to be so close and to not see her… That was unacceptable. He had to see Leona, and he had to do it soon.

"Hey Ernest," he said, putting an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Have you ever tried absinthe?" Ernest grinned and Elliot shuddered; it would be a long night.

…

When Elliot reached the House of Fianna, things were dying down for the evening. Lottie smiled at him as he entered and told him that Leona was in her room. Elliot thanked her and headed up there.

He was finally going to see Leona again.

…

_End of Chapter Four_


	5. Today For You, Tomorrow For Me

Oh my. You thought this was really getting updated? That is really quite unfortunate.

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS' EVERYONE!

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.

I will delete this chapter tomorrow. These are words are just for a fooling word count. But what if I actually wrote a story within this massive paragraph? I could do that. What do you think? Do you think I should do that? What if I did. That would take time and effort. And I have so much to do this week. A psych article to read before 5 pm tomorrow. A Spanish quiz and dramatization Wednesday. And let's not forget about my history paper due Friday that I haven't started on! But I really don't want to do any of that. I'd much rather actually have the time and energy to work on fanfiction. I really would. But there's just so much to do. Who'd have thunk that higher education would be such a timely affair? Not me, friend. (That's a lie.) No, I thought it would all be alcohol and shenanigans. When I walked onto campus and it wasn't exactly like _Animal House_, one cannot imagine my disappointment. I thought the bros and I would walk onto campus and own the place. Instead I have to do work and write papers and learn. Gosh darn it, learning is such a difficult thing to do. But I am lucky, because I have the opportunity to do so.


End file.
